hope for the hopeless
by The Crownless Queen
Summary: "Ron tried to tell himself he wasn't disappointed when, after he came back, things didn't immediately go back to the way they were." - Ron, after the locket but before Malfoy Manor.


For Quidditch League Round 6, Puddlemere United: Beater Two: Nature. Write a fic set somewhere surrounded by nature, Optional Prompts: (emotion) disappointment, (phrase) at a crossroads, (object) picnic basket.

Also for Hogwarts's Writing Club: Assorted Appreciation 7: Princess Alice, Countess of Athlone; - Write a fic set during a war, Disney Challenge: Songs 1. You've Got A Friend In Me - Genre: Friendship, Showtime 19: The Pitiful Children - (emotion) Happy, Sophie's Shelf: 8. Frey: "We stand together.", Liza's Loves 14: If we can make it through tonight we'll see the sun - March On, Lo's Lowdown 6: [relationship] Best friends.

* * *

**hope for the hopeless**

Ron tried to tell himself he wasn't disappointed when, after he came back, things didn't immediately go back to the way they were.

It wasn't anything he hadn't been expecting, really, and so what if the slightly distrustful looks his friends gave him sometimes made his stomach turn? It wasn't like Ron didn't deserve it.

They didn't _mean to_ mistrust him anyway. Ron knew that. Harry had made it clear that he was forgiven, after that terrifying moment where Ron had almost thought he'd gotten back to late to do any good and would have to fish his friend's corpse out of a lake, and even Hermione had come around after an initial… fiery response.

It was just… the little things, really.

Like the way both Hermione and Harry kept him in their sights now, like they didn't trust that he wouldn't vanish the moment they looked away. He _couldn't_ do that to them, not again, but somehow the words stuck in his throat whenever he tried to tell them that.

Like the way they seemed more… distant, somehow, like an invisible line had been drawn in the midst of their trio, a new divide that _Ron_ had put there without meaning to and now didn't know how to cross.

Oh, they still did everything together — still tried to figure out where to go next, still huddled together at night around their tiny radio to listen to increasingly bleak news — but it wasn't the same.

Sometimes, when Ron felt particularly uncharitable, he even thought Harry and Hermione might have… something. That they were trying to leave him behind, and were just too bloody kind to say anything about it.

He always hated himself after those thoughts, felt sick from them because there was no way they could be true, and they were what had gotten him into this mess in the first place.

But he still had them, and he had no idea how to make things better apart from simply… waiting for it.

Time, he hoped, might make things better.

.

The thing was, Ron _hated _camping. He hadn't thought he would, not really — come on, skipping out on school with his two best friends to go on a life saving quest was kind of awesome, wasn't it?

Well, or rather it had been, on paper at least.

In real life, their quest involved a lot more dull chores, aching stomachs and long stretches of waiting as they rehashed everything they already knew and tried not to go mad from it.

The tent that had seemed so great in the beginning now made him feel claustrophobic, an unfathomable itching stuck under his skin as their frustration grew.

And then there were the spiders. No one had mentioned there'd be spiders in this Merlin be damned forest, and really, the less said about those the better.

So yes, Ron hated camping.

He didn't hate the company, though. He had forgotten that once, and guilt gnawed at his insides at the reminder as he watched them bustle around, Hermione trying to make a somewhat palatable meal while Harry went over their Horcrux notes, muttering to himself.

Ron felt at a loss, like he was standing at a crossroads, perilously perched at the edge of something huge and terrifying, where one single move could send him tumbling off to perdition.

"I can make another food run," Ron found himself saying, awkwardly hopping from one foot to the other, hoping he was making the right choice.

"Really?" Even Harry's head perked up at that, before he bent his head back over his notes again, appearing very focused, and Ron tried to swallow back the relief he felt at seeing Hermione smile at him again.

"Yeah," he said, scratching at his neck. "It's probably time to, right?"

He saw Hermione grimace as she eyed their mostly empty cupboards, and he tried his hardest not to fidget.

"I just don't know if it's safe for you to go back out there," Hermione finally said, her lips drawn into a tight line as she faced him again.

Ron tried not to bristle. "I can handle myself, you know," he retorted, though his words weren't as biting as he could have made them. Part of it was that he didn't dare, but mostly, his heart ached too much for it.

Hermione looked so tired…

"I could come with you?" Hermione said, gnawing nervously on her lips.

For an impossible instant, Ron's heart soared in is chest. But then, he saw the way Hermione's eyes flicked over to Harry, still pointedly pouring over the notes and ignoring them, and he forced a smile.

"You don't have to," he answered honestly. "I'll be quick, and you'll be more use here anyway."

Ron's eyes went wide at that and he quickly backpedalled before the offended look he could see blooming on Hermione's face had the time to turn into the hurt kind of rage she always could pull off so well.

"What I mean is, you can help Harry with his research. I can deal with grocery shopping."

He smiled, and Hermione snorted back, lightly amused.

They both knew 'shopping' was a misnomer here.

.

Stealing from Muggles was ridiculously easy, for all that it left a bitter taste in Ron's mouth. He supposed it might be harder for Muggles to do it themselves, but with only a couple spells, Ron could get in and out of most shops with the food they needed.

He didn't _want _to, of course, and he made sure to only take what was necessary. He couldn't linger long anyway — the last thing he wanted was to run into some Snatchers because he'd debated too long on whether or not he should take this loaf of bread or that one. He'd never hear the end of it.

Today though, Ron couldn't help but linger a bit.

He hadn't meant to — he certainly hadn't set out on doing it — but he just couldn't help it.

The town he'd found himself in was nice. It was on the smaller side, really, and oddly reminiscent of Ottery St. Catchpole — which, actually, was probably why Ron slowed down when he got there.

Stubborn snow still clung to rooftops edges and street corners, and half the inhabitants seemed not to have gotten the memo that Christmas had come and passed by a good few weeks now.

It hit him, suddenly, that he had missed Christmas. He hadn't been there to celebrate it with Harry and Hermione.

Of course, from what little Hermione had confided in him, it hadn't exactly been a happy time for them, but at least they'd been together.

Ron had been alone, and yes, that had been his own fault, but now, suddenly, all he wished was that he could turn back time and be there with them, celebrating the way they'd done back at Hogwarts, when things were simpler.

But Ron couldn't turn back time, and he had to... to live with his mistakes.

Out loud, he sighed, and after shaking his head, he set off into the town again.

The idea didn't come to him right away. There was no revelation, no huge moment where Ron suddenly realized what he wanted to do — it was quieter than that, and softer for it, a dozen things piling up until Ron had a clear picture in his head.

And for the first time since he'd come back, Ron smiled, truly and genuinely, and felt hope bloom in his chest.

.

Ron wasn't great at Transfiguration. He knew this.

Still, he had rather thought turning a large fallen tree branch into a picnic basket would have been easier.

_"Turn, damn it,"_ he hissed, jabbing his wand downward again. The tree branch shivered and flopped, but apart from a slightly better curvature, it was still a tree branch, and not a picnic basket.

It was maddening.

(More enraging was the fact that Ron knew Hermione could have done this in five seconds flat, because she was brilliant like that, but Ron couldn't ask her to help him when this was supposed to be part of his apology to her and Harry.)

Around him, the wind rustled amongst the trees. It almost sounded like the nature was laughing at him, and Ron scowled harder. He was going to get this done if it killed him — he'd gathered the food already (some roast beef and potatoes that, in a stroke of luck, a couple had sent back to the kitchens of the town's only restaurant, and some not quite stale cake he'd grabbed at the grocery store), and it wouldn't be a sort of make-up Christmas dinner if Ron didn't put _some_ effort in the presentation.

So Ron gritted his teeth and tried again.

And again.

And…

Well, and again, until the tree branch had turned into something that could function as a picnic basket, even though it couldn't really be called that, not even charitably.

It was, sadly, probably the best Ron could manage, though, so it would have to do.

"I hope this'll work," he muttered to himself, bending down to stuff his pilfered victuals into the basket, before hefting it under his left arm.

He disappeared with a _crack._

.

Every time Ron left the tent and ventured beyond its wards, there was a part of him that feared he wouldn't be able to find it again. It was a cold kind of fear, shivering down his spine as it seized his heart, and the only thing that ever seemed to truly dispel it was Harry or Hermione welcoming him in.

This time, Harry was the one who greeted him. His green eyes, cold at first, warmed quickly when Ron answered his questions correctly.

"Come on," he said, his lips quirking up into a small grin as he gestured Ron in. "Hermione'll be glad to see you; she's been worried."

The way Harry's eyes flicked over Ron's body told him she hadn't been the only one, and the concern made Ron feel warm, like he truly hadn't ruined everything by leaving, all those weeks ago.

"I'm fine," Ron promised. Smiling himself, he hefted the basket up his hip. "And I brought back food."

Harry's eyes lit up, and Ron couldn't help but let out a chuckle. While they both knew better than to say anything about what Hermione had been trying to cook when he'd left, that didn't mean they weren't thinking it.

Ron's smile widened. For a short moment, it almost felt like things were alright again — like he'd never left at all, creating this awkward rift that wouldn't quite heal.

He followed Harry into the tent, hoping that his little plan would help with that.

.

Hermione's first words when she saw Ron were, "Oh, _thank Merlin."_

Ron just froze, nonplussed. "... You're welcome?" he blurted out.

Behind him, Harry chuckled. Hermione simply glared at him, her cheeks turning pink. "Give that here," she said, gesturing toward the basket.

She did a double-take when Ron set it down on the table, staring in confusion first at it and then at him.

This time, Ron's cheeks were the ones turning pink. "Actually," he started, pausing to wet his dry lips quickly. He didn't let go of the basket, pulling it closer to himself. "Actually, I thought we could do something… different this time."

Hermione frowned. "Different how?"

"I…" For an instant, Ron hesitated.

Was it really such a good idea? He didn't have to say anything about the food he'd taken. He could just let his friends believe the food he'd grabbed was nothing special, and it'd work. Harry had been happy to see him, and Hermione had been relieved, but nothing in their faces seemed to indicate they hadn't _trusted_ him to come back.

It happened very quickly. In the first second, Ron realized that he probably didn't need to do anything for things to go back to the way they were. It felt like a breath of fresh air, like a weight off his chest.

In the second one, Ron realized that he may not _need to,_ but he _wanted to._

"I thought we could do Christmas together. I know it passed a while ago," he hastened to add, "and that it's my own fault I wasn't there, but we could do like, a makeover Christmas dinner? I got some food, and the weather really isn't that bad, we could do a picnic?"

Ron fell silent, his heart hammering in his chest as he waited for his friends' verdict. Idly, Ron was aware that he'd been through worse waits in his life, but right now, it didn't feel like it.

It was like his life hung in the balance here, and every second tickling by, every beat of his heart was more excruciating than the last.

In truth, the silence probably didn't last very long, a handful of seconds at most before Hermione's voice broke it, but it felt like it.

"You didn't have to do this," she said, but her eyes were soft and pleased as she looked at Ron, whose heart gave an odd pang.

"She's right," Harry echoed. "But it's a good idea," he added when Ron turned to face him. "I… Things have been easier since you destroyed the locket," he nodded at Ron thankfully, "but I know they haven't exactly been _easy."_ Harry grimaced, averting his eyes with shame. "_I_ haven't exactly been easy to live with."

Ron snorted. "Well, I bailed on you both, so if you guys can forgive me for that, we can definitely forgive you for your temper. Besides," he added, smirking teasingly to hide the unease he still felt, "it wouldn't be the first time."

"Ron's right," Hermione said.

Ron startled. "I am?" He blinked and nodded. "I am."

Hermione shot him a glare. "What I meant was that none of us have been _easy_ to live with, because _this_ hasn't been easy. But we're doing okay, I think. We're still alive, and we're still — again — together, so…" She took a deep breath, turning shining eyes on Ron again. "I think a makeover Christmas dinner/picnic is a great idea."

As if on cue, Ron's stomach grumbled.

Hermione's eyes danced with mirth, and her lips quirked up into a smile. Mercifully, she didn't laugh — Harry, however, wasn't quite so kind.

Not that Ron minded — it had been a long time since he'd heard Harry truly laugh, and he deserved to. These days, there was precious little to laugh about, and who knew when the next time they'd find anything to be mirthful about would come? They might as well enjoy it while it lasted.

Well, that and their Christmas picnic to come, of course.


End file.
